“Now, I’m hungry,” I tease. My wine is going down with way too much ease, and I make a mental note to slow my pace.
“Good thing we’re at a restaurant. Want to order some stuff to share?”
I nod. I can’t help but think that this feels too easy. Reid is so laid back, too nice, too good. I don’t know what, but too something. Where are his flaws?
I feel like I want to throw my hands in the air and yell, “Where are they? The flaws!”
He doesn’t seem to notice I’ve gone completely mental and am way up in my feelings.
We decide on poutine and a cheese dish to share, and go back to our conversation.
“No ribs this year?” Why I ask, I don’t know. It’s like I want to fuck shit up with us.
“No ribs. Tim, my grad student, is going home, and the other guys I had last year all seem to have shacked up. Me too, sort of.” He raises his eyebrow, and it pops above his glasses.
I take a long hard look. Reid’s hair is messy and his beard a little scraggly. He looks delicious, and I want to forget the poutine.
“Are you staring at me?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, you were, and I like it.” He leans in and pecks my cheek. “Like what you see?”
I feel myself swallowing. I can’t help it. I do like what I see.
“We are kind of shacked up, right?” he asks.
He’s probing, wanting to define this. I deduce we’re doing this all ass-backward. He’s met my kid; he’s spent time in my house; he knows Leona. I’m messing up.
Screw it. I down my wine. “I guess, but it’s complicated. I don’t do this often, and I’m pretty sure I’m breaking every rule in the book.”
Like lying to you.
I don’t mention the lying part, but go on. “I’m sure if I were better at this, our first date wouldn’t have been with Gabby in tow. In fact, you probably wouldn’t have met her yet. You’d be carefully kept at arm’s length. I think that’s in bold in the single-mom’s dating rule book.”
“Why? I’m not harming Gabby.”
Or me, I want to say. He looks absolutely edible in jeans and a dark blue shirt, untucked, unbuttoned to his breastbone.
“No, you’re not. In fact, she seems to like you a lot. I’m worried about her getting attached.”
“I don’t have a train to catch.”
“Okay.”
“Okay ...” He draws the word out with a raised eyebrow.
After a brief pause, the subject ends up being tabled. We move back to safer territory, laughing about Lumberjax and my absolute lack of ax-throwing prowess.
The food comes and we share it. Still laughing, we order a second round of drinks. I forget my phone is even sitting on the bar, not worried about Gabby for the first time in ever.
“How about you?” he asks. “You looking forward to the holiday? I imagine it’s hectic with Gabby and presents and Santa.”
“We went to the mall, and she handed him a two-page list. If I worked overtime all year, I couldn’t afford everything on her list.”
“I need to get her something.”
“See, this is what I mean. You can’t. It’s not a good idea.”
